


More Than A Scar

by soapymerry



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: BrOT6 - Freeform, Fake AH Crew, Graphic Violence, Immortal Fake AH Crew
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-18
Updated: 2015-10-19
Packaged: 2018-04-26 22:41:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5023351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soapymerry/pseuds/soapymerry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When a heist goes wrong and Geoff has to make the decision between life and death, someone's already made the choice for him. </p><p>The origin and exposition of the Fake AH Crew's immortality.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> So this is really a work in progress, don't have the full story fleshed out yet. If you have any suggestions, critiques or comments, I'd love to hear them!

No one was expecting that explosion.

The heist had been going perfectly. 10 minutes in and out; all 3 security cameras shot down with perfect aim; 2 store clerks restrained in the bathroom; six hundred thousand dollars’ worth of Los Santos' finest jewels crammed into the single duffel bag now hanging at Geoff's hip. It was what the guys of the AH Crew would call a good day. When the cops showed up, they were ready for the real fun. It was like every other heist – hell, it was like every other day. Geoff knew the police departments every procedure, and he counted their waves like clockwork.

 _Three initial squad cars._ He thought to himself, running into the adjoining alleyway and ducking behind the dumpster. He could hear the distinctive rattle from Gavin’s broken rifle handle as it fired away. A chuckle from Ryan as he ran through the alley and started climbing to the roof of the small café next door. They were noises that were easily lost in the heat of the battle, but Geoff learnt to pick out with ease. They were the sounds of his boys having fun. Geoff leaned out from behind his spot to see the final officer fall to the ground, and watched Gavin and Michael whoop with victory.

 _Four more back up cars._ Within 30 seconds, more vehicles blocked the roads and a swarm of cops came running toward the jewellery store. Gavin, as usual, was taken completely by surprise at their advances. No matter how many missions they went on, the boy never seemed to catch on to the pattern.

Geoff stood up and shot a bullet through the jaw of the officer that had his pistol trained on Gavin’s chest. The bag hung heavily on Geoff, making his aim a little off. On small scale attacks like this, Geoff usually let the Lads deal with it. ‘Save my bullets and save their ego’, he always told Jack and Ryan. But even though he had a “Fearless, Heartless, Ruthless Leader” reputation to maintain, he cared far too much about his crew to let them die over some pride. It wasn’t often anyone even realised that their lives had just been saved, but this time Gavin turned around and gave Geoff a half-hearted salute of thanks. Geoff replied with a half-smile and glanced at his watch. _2 minutes is almost up._ He looked up to see Ryan perched on the edge of the roof, rocket launcher in hand, waiting.

“Ryan!” He called up. Ryan barely flinched, but Geoff knew he was listening. Or hoped he was, anyway. “No explosions! It’s too small an area!” Ryan sighed and threw the launcher backwards. He didn’t grab anything else.

Geoff didn’t have time to watch for development, as sure enough, blaring engines of obnoxiously large and armoured trucks came barrelling down the street. SWAT vans. Now Geoff acted. He sprang up and threw himself next to Gavin and Michael. Rifle aimed at the vans, he started shooting blindly. There was no point in taking time aim properly at this point, they were far too outnumbered and out-armoured. It was hard to distinguish between the sounds of bullets hitting metal and the ones hitting body armour, so Geoff kept on firing. In the corner of his eye, he saw Michael grab Gavin’s collar and throw him back inside the store. Over his own gunfire, it was hard to pick up what he saying to him, but Geoff trusted Michael's judgement. When it came to Gavin, he usually knew what was best for him. Geoff was too busy trying to find some flesh to hit.

When the first explosion came, all eyes immediately looked up to Ryan. But Ryan looked equally perplexed and pissed off as Geoff. Peering around, Geoff saw something unexpected. Something entirely unorthodox for the Los Santos Police Department. At the end of the street, edging its way slowly towards the battleground, was something that Geoff had only seen in his military days. A tank, towering above the store fronts and officers, rolled itself forward like it had all the time in the world.

For a minute, the world seemed to stand still and Geoff's mind went into overdrive. Michael and Gavin were in the building – if it struck there, they’d be buried alive. Ryan was on the roof, that’s an easy shot. And Geoff…he was stood in the middle of the road, looking right down the barrel of the beast. He knew what to do when a man pointed a gun at him. He knew what to do when a sniper had him in his crosshairs. But what can he do when a 60 ton vehicular weapon is less than 200 metres away from him?

The pain erupted in his arm before he could register anything else. Looking down, he saw the hole that had ripped through his forearm. And then he remembered he wasn't the only one with a gun. A dozen or more officers stood in formation around the store, all hoping for their bullet to find its place in him.

For the first time in a long time, Geoff felt like he wasn’t going to win.

He took a step back. The ground shook as the tank shot again, hitting an abandoned squad car and forcing debris to shoot through the air. A piece of metal hit Geoff’s face, piercing him through the right eye. A flash of pain flooded his brain, and he was unable to think of anything to do.

“Fuck!” He screamed, falling backwards. His vision of the world had grown significantly darker. It hurt to even keep his eyes open. 

“Geoff!” He heard a British voice cry, before a hand clamped down on his shoulder and dragged him back. They released the bag from around Geoff's shoulders, and he heard the contents clink as someone else picked it up. He couldn’t tell who was dragging him. He didn't need help. He was _Geoff fucking Ramsey._  He tried to stand as another bullet hit him in the ankle. He hit the ground heavily, and let himself be dragged into the store.

“They have a fucking tank! Those fuckers!” He screamed at no one in particular. He felt his back press up against a wall. He stretched his leg out, his foot banging against the service counter. The ground rumbled again as something else exploded. It was all too much. All he could focus on was the burning hot pain on his face.

“Geoff, you okay? You’re okay.” Michael rubbed his shoulder, trying to reassure him. His voice betrayed him, trembling with worry. “We’ll get Jack on the phone, get her to get a Jet down here, blow that piece of shit up. Okay? Okay.”

Geoff couldn’t tell if the world had gone quieter or he was going deaf. All he could hear was Michael screaming down the phone at Jack, telling her to find the ‘biggest fucking rocket’ she could.

“Michael?” Gavin whispered, somewhere at the back of the store.

“What?”

“Michael…?”

“WHAT?!”

“Turn around, you MORON!” The pair went silent. Geoff couldn’t see what was behind Michael. He couldn’t even see his feet. “What’s wrong?” He asked quietly. No one responded. “Guys?”

The world had stopped.

“Geoff, stay very quiet.” A harsh whisper came from next to him. He couldn’t tell who it was. A cold ball of metal was placed in his hand. “This is a grenade. You’ll know when to use it.” A hand guided his finger to the pin. "Don't be scared to use it."

“What?”

There was no response. Feeling out, there was no one around him. He was all alone.

“Put the weapon down!” It was the order of Los Santos’ finest trained officers. Geoff raised his head, but could only make out a blurry shadow, and the glint of the weapon that was pointed at his one good eye. His hand tightened around the grenade.

“Sir, if you desist now, we will get you some medical care. If you do not, we will have to use lethal force.”

“Don’t do it, Geoff.” Gavin chirped from somewhere behind the officers. It was followed with the sound of a punch.

Geoff raised his head and smirked the cops. “You dirty-playing cunts.” Before they could respond, Geoff pulled the pin out.

The second before you die, you’re supposed to think about your loved ones. Or the best moments of your life. Or all the regrets you have. Geoff didn’t think of any of that. He didn’t think at all.

Death was surprisingly boring.


	2. Waking Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first time the guys wake up after dying, their priorities are a little off.

He wished the ringing in his head would stop.

How long did it take to die?

Michael couldn’t make up his mind which was worse – the fact that they had been caught, actually _caught_ , or the fact that Geoff had happily killed them all.

He couldn’t remember how it happened. One minute, he was screaming at Jack to come blow those bastards up. The next, he and Gavin were staring down the neck of a huge tank. Geoff was lying in the corner of the room, blinded and probably crippled. And then, the body.

No. He didn’t want his last thoughts to be of that. Ryan’s lifeless body, face blown apart, falling in front of the store. Lying in the middle of the road like a discarded doll. Him being powerless to do anything as the cops trod over him, snapping his fingers like twigs, as if they couldn’t even see him.

He had raised his gun, but Gavin stopped him. Looking back, Michael realised that he had to stop fighting. Geoff wasn't the only one injured. A waterfall of blood fell across Gavin’s face from the top of his head, a misshapen crater that Michael knew wasn’t supposed to be there. What had happened to him? He couldn’t remember. Why couldn’t he remember?!

And he looked so tired, like all of his energy had been sucked out of him. His face paler than normal, breaths shallower, and he stood hunched, like he couldn't even carry his own weight. The rage within Michael vanished, and it was replaced with a deep-seated wish of home. Back with the crew in their apartment, dreaming of hitting the big score one day. He didn't want to be here any more.

His rifle slipped through his fingers, clattering to the floor. He turned around just in time to be surrounded by a sea of heavily armoured cops. 

They made him lie next to Gavin, hands crossed on top of his head and a pistol trained to his face, as he listened to someone bark orders at Geoff. His view of him was obscured by a jewellery cabinet that they had just pillaged, and bits of broken glass caught Michael’s attention. This was just minutes ago, but it seemed like hours. How long had they been in that store? How long since Ryan had fallen from the roof?

 _Geoff’ll do something._ He thought to himself. Convincing himself.  _He always knows what to do._

“Don’t do it, Geoff.” Gavin whimpered next to him, at something Michael hadn't even heard. Bad move. Michael flinched as a boot connected with Gavin’s jaw. A dribble of blood started running down his chin. He didn’t move again. Had they killed him? Michael's entire body started shaking. He’d never been this scared before. Not of the police, but for his crew.

That’s when he heard the little clang of metal. Like a pin dropping. Or at least one being pulled out of a live grenade.

No one moved as the explosion tore through the building. It was like they were all rooted in place. He could remember the flames curling around him, burning hot fingers that dug their way into his very core. They licked his skin, paralysing him with the torture they inflicted.

But that was surely hours ago. Why did it still hurt? Why wasn’t he dead yet?

Was this the 'hell' that those store clerks always told him about before he knocked them out?

Well, he didn’t like it.

“MICHAEL?!” The scream brought him to his senses. He opened his eyes, half expecting to see rivers of lava and pits of screaming souls of something like that. Instead, he came face-to-face with probably the most excited grin he had ever seen. “You’re alive, my boi!” Gavin collapsed on top of him, embracing him in a suffocating hug. It knocked the breath out of him, but man, it felt so good to see him okay.

“I am?” He pushed Gavin off of him and jumped up. His balance was fine. His skin was fine. He felt no pain. Nothing. “Jesus fucking Christ, I’m not dead!” Michael started laughing halfway through the sentence, a smile erupting from his lips before he could control himself. He spun around, lifting his leather jacket up to inspect his clothing. It was a little singed, but for just being in the heart of an explosion, it was holding up superbly. “Wait.” His tone fell serious again. He looked around, confused.

They were standing on top of a huge hill, green grass stretching out in every direction for miles.  The breeze was nice on his face, wiping away the memories of the fire. It smelled like morning dew. He could make out the faint outline of a highway, below in the distance. The complete opposite of the last place Michael was just in.

“How’d we get here?”

Gavin shrugged, shoulders rising and falling in quick succession. Michael noticed he stood straight again, confidence bouncing off his every movement. “I woke up, and you were there-” he pointed to the patch of grass Michael had woken up. “Geoff was there-” He pointed a bit further up the mountain, where Michael could now see a figure sat, watching them. “And Ryan was firing flares into the sky.”

Michael walked past Gavin, eyes still stuck onto the figure of Geoff. No matter how great a mood Michael was is, he was still pissed off that Geoff had pulled that pin.

“Hey Geoff.” He called, picking up speed. “Did you have a nice sleep, _buddy_?” When he was in arms reach, he swung at him. Geoff dodged easily, not even bothering to stand up.

“Alright, hey. Calm down.”

“You blew us up!” Michael punched again, this time forcing Geoff to get on his feet in order to avoid it. His suit was covered in grime, and he looked like he had slept in a week.

“You told me to!” Geoff held his hands up to show he wasn’t going to fight back.

“The fuck I did!” Michael stepped back and took his jacket off.

“You gave me that grenade, dude.”

“I didn’t give you shit.” Understanding he wasn’t going to get the reaction he wanted out of him, Michael spat at the ground.

“Well somebody did. And they told me to use it.”

“So you killed us all because somebody asked you to?”

Gavin ran over, pushing himself in Michael vision. He grabbed hold of his shoulders and looked into his eyes. “Michael, we’re not dead.”

That sentence stopped them all in their tracks. Even Gavin seemed a bit shocked at his words. They weren’t dead. They weren’t even injured. Looking around, Michael realised that nothing added up. The dent in Gavin’s skull was gone, his hair hadn’t even been misplaced. Geoff walked around just fine, though Michael knew for sure his ankle had been torn to shreds. And his eye – instead of a large, gaping wound slashing through half his face, it was a faded scar, as if it had happened years ago. Both his eyes focussed strongly on Michael, so he figured he wasn’t blind either.

What about Ryan’s face? He couldn’t forget the exposed flesh, the lumps of tissue that hung loosely, his skin completely burnt off. His entire face just replaced with red. Was it still like that? He needed to see Ryan. He needed to make sure.

“Where’s Ryan?” He asked, looking around the hill. He couldn’t see him anywhere. “Gavin, you said Ryan was here, where is he?”

A flare darted past the group, setting fire to a small patch of grass about a hundred feet away. “You wanted me?” Ryan walked up to them calmly, reloading his flare gun and aiming it randomly in the sky. He shot it off, sending a yellow-tinted flare flying up. Everyone watched him quizzically. Something was wrong with him. He was walking slowly, considering every step. And his face was completely covered. 

Geoff was the one who spoke up first. “Why are you wearing your mask?” They were answered with stony silence. Behind the mask, harsh eyes stared at them.

“No reason.” It was said through gritted teeth.

Michael stepped towards him. “Ryan, take the mask off. I wanna see something.” His voice was calm and collected, hinting at nothing more than a friendly suggestion.

“I don’t want to.”

“Take it off. Please.” He started moving faster.

“No.” He took a step backwards.

“Ryan!”

Ryan lifted his gun and shot a flare at Michael. It his shoulder, briefly engulfing his arm in flames. They went out quickly, with a little help from Gavin who picked Michael jacket up and started beating the fire with it. The pain didn’t bother Michael, he just wanted to see Ryan’s face.

“Goddamn it Ryan!” He threw himself at him, tackling him to the ground. Ryan tried to throw him off, but was too slow. Michael grabbed the mask and pulled it over his head.

The intake of breath by everyone was almost comical. What faced them was not the horrific, nightmare inducing wound that Michael remembered, but it certainly wasn’t the Ryan they were used to seeing. His entire face was disfigured, torn apart by scars and flesh that hadn’t healed properly. The skin on his right cheek seemed tighter than on his left, creating a cheekbone that looked like it would protrude through the skin at any minute. His skin now seemed a sunburnt red, mismatching the pale white shade of his neck.

“Holy shit, dude.” Geoff breathed out, running a hand through his hair. Michael stood up, feebly handing the mask back down to Ryan. He put in on quietly and didn’t move.

“Is it that bad?” Ryan asked, reaching for the flare gun that had been knocked out of his hand. “I can’t really see it, but my face is really sore.”

“It’s, uh, not looking good, I gotta be honest.” Michael said, holding out a hand to help him up. Ryan took it and pulled himself up, landing strongly on his feet.

“So what do we do now?” Gavin piped up. He looked up, shielding his eyes from the sun. “Do you think Jack’s at the jewellery store by now.”

“That could have been days ago. We don't know how long we've been out here.” Michael pointed to the road in the distance. “I think we need to go back to the apartment. Maybe Jack’s the one who saved us.”

“Why would he leave us out here?” Geoff interjected, gesturing around him. “We’re in the middle of buttfuck nowhere.”

“Whatever, I don’t know. But I don’t wanna be here forever.” Ryan fired his flare in the direction of the road. It hit a few yards shy, but caused a few cars to stop in surprise. “And I know the best dealership around. Come on.” The four started running towards the road. Michael could feel his strength pumping through his body, legs burning as his strides became longer and faster.

He felt almost invincible. And a single thought kept racing through his mind – maybe he was.


	3. Asking Questions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The crew doesn't receive the warmest welcome when they arrive back at the apartment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is more of a build up chapter, for plot purposes it's not that important, but it contains a lot of characterisation.

The ride back was strangely quiet. Though they had all survived their last heist – at least, they think they did – there was no usual banter flooding the car. Instead, the four sat in silent isolation, each engulfed in their own thoughts.

They’d managed to pick up a small, red Nissan. Ryan drove; his insistence as he was the one who pulled the balding middle-aged man out of it. Gavin and Geoff sat in the back, Geoff idly stroking his faded scar around his eye and Gavin staring nonchalantly out of his window. Michael sat in the passenger seat. He had his head leant against the window, eyes focussed on the treeline as they drove down the highway. They were close to the main city now, but the area was still pretty green. Ryan didn’t think they’d ever come down this road before.

Ryan could tell that out of all of them, it was Michael that this whole ‘not dead’ thing was bothering the most. He couldn’t figure out why, and he was a little afraid to ask. The last thing Ryan remembered was getting flanked by a couple of cops with a shotgun, so whatever happened after that must have fucked Michael up.

Swallowing the lump that had gathered in his throat, Ryan turned to Michael. He eyed his bicep where he had shot him with the flare, worried about what burn was beneath his leather jacket. “How’s your arm, Michael?” His breath was hot and clammy from within his mask, but Ryan didn’t want to take it off again. Considering the crews reaction, he must have looked terrible. Ryan had avoided the mirrors in the car. He’d get Lindsay to deal with it when he got back.

Michael looked around in surprise, as if he had forgotten anyone else was there. He glanced at his arm. “It’s fine.” He squeezed it, seeming to be in no pain. “Really good, actually. I don’t think it got me very much.”

“Sorry I flared you.”

Michael grinned and ran his hands over his eyes. “Don’t worry about it.” Ryan noticed he looked really tired – but so did everyone. They were all physically and mentally exhausted. A million questions raced through each of their heads, and they didn’t know where to begin asking.

Geoff cleared his throat, gaining the attention of everyone in the car. “So, what are doing now?”

Ryan licked his lips, tongue catching the taste of the bitter rubber of the mask. “We need to go see Jack. See what she knows about this.” The car agreed unanimously. “So what actually happened with you guys?”

“Geoff grenaded us.” Michael spat out bitterly. Ryan started straight ahead, not wanting to get in the middle of whatever shit was going down.

“Michael, he didn’t-” Gavin’s defence was cut off by Geoff sudden explosion of anger.

“One of you fuckers put the thing in my hand and told me to use it!”

“No one gave you the fucking grenade!” Michael spun around in his seat, ignoring the seatbelt that tightened around his neck. “Ask Gavin, it was all you!”

Geoff’s voice pitch raised, and Ryan knew he was getting seriously pissed off. “No it fucking wasn’t!”

Michael gestured harshly in Gavin’s direction, a request for him to back him up. Gavin stared blankly at the pair. “Uhhh…well, okay, here’s what I remember happening. Geoff came into the store all bloodied and then there was the tank-”

“What do you mean ‘came into the store’? What, like I just wandered in all ‘oh hello I’d like to buy a ring please’?! I was fucking blind!”

Gavin raised his hands in frustration. “How else did you get there then, you dope?”

“One of you guys dragged me! Fucking ‘came into the store’…” The car fell quiet. Michael and Gavin exchanged confused looks, unable to piece together each other’s stories. Geoff took a deep breath and started again, voice much calmer than before. “I was being shot to pieces, and then either Gavin or Michael – I don’t know which – dragged me into the store. That’s what happened.”

“Geoff, I am telling you, we didn’t take you anywhere.” Gavin spoke slowly, staring intently at Geoff.

“Then who did?” The crew turned their heads to look at Ryan.

“Hey, don’t look at me, I was busy getting shotgunned.” Ryan turned a corner sharply, banging into a lamppost. The crew, used to such disregard at driving, ignored the disturbance and carried on looking at Ryan.

“You were shot?” Geoff asked, genuine concern filling his voice.

“Not a lot. Only once. Right in the face.” Ryan’s sudden sadistic chuckle caught everyone off guard.

Michael smirked. “Jesus Christ Ryan, you’re so creepy.” Behind him, Gavin chortled.

“Fun fact, a shotgun shell to the face does not hurt as much as you think it would.” Everyone relaxed back in their seat, the tension gone as quickly as it appeared.

“Are we nearly back at the apartment?” Geoff wondered out loud.

“Oh, I’ve been circling the block for 5 minutes now, I just thought you guys needed to get that off your chest.” Ryan stopped the car in the middle of the road and kicked the car door open. Geoff and Michael glared after him.

 

Inside, Ryan thought he’d have to use CPR on Geoff. Instead of the lavish, expensive furniture they were used to, the whole place was packed up in boxes, with cheap plastic tarps thrown the around the couches and TV.

“What the fuck is this?!” Geoff called out, marching to the middle of the open plan apartment and spinning around. “Jack, this better not have you!” The lights shut down, encasing them in near darkness apart from the streaks of light that was filtering in from the closed blinds.

 _“You better get the fuck out right now.”_ A voice rang throughout the apartment from 4 surround sound speakers placed in the living room. The voice of one Jack Patillo.

Ryan rolled his eyes and took a step forward. “Come on Jack, it’s only us. Where’s all our stuff?”

There was a brief silence before the static buzz of the speakers came again. _“I don’t know what you’re trying to do, but you better get the fuck out. Now.”_

Gavin and Michael came forward, protesting to the absent Jack. Ryan ignored them and turned to his left, looking towards where he knew the two-way mirror was. It was Jack’s little hidey-hole, the place she retreated to when she was worried the wrong people would be breaking into the apartment. But why was she so cautious of these four?

Ryan reached inside his jacket and pulled out a small knife, the kind he carried around for whenever he needed answers from someone. He waved it towards the mirror, knowing Jack would understand it.

 _“Where did you get that knife?”_ Jack asked. Michael and Gavin stopped talking and looked towards Ryan, scared of what was to come.

“I don’t know, why don’t look yourself.” Bringing his arm back, Ryan threw it towards the wall. The two-way mirror shattered, sending large shards back into Jack’s control room.

“What the fuck, Ryan?!” Jack screeched, expertly hopping the now broken mirror and walking towards the group. “What the hell was that?!”

Geoff pushed forward, stopping Jack from reaching Ryan. Ryan turned around and pulled a face of fake-apology at Gavin, before realising he couldn’t see his expression from beneath the mask.

“Would you care to explain where all my shit it, please?” Geoff demanded, feigning professionalism.

“I moved it all. You were supposed to be dead, the cops were going to be all over this address.” Jack brushed herself down and took a deep breath. “How the fuck are you back here?”

Michael exhaled loudly. “We were hoping you could explain that.”

“I have death certificates for all of you. Police reports on all of you dying. You guys are dead. By the time I got there, they were already withdrawing all their men.” Jack reached into her back pocket and brought forward her phone. She opened a word document and threw it at Geoff as proof. “Geoff Ramsey, body unrecoverable. Michael Jones, body unrecoverable. Gavin Free, body unrecoverable. You all died in an explosion cause by one Geoff Ramsey.” Ryan watched as Geoff flicked hastily through document after document. “There are more than a dozen witness reports of all your deaths.”

Michael grabbed the phone and stared intently at the words on the screen. “So, we really are dead?”

Jack grinned from ear to ear, her fire-red hair bouncing around her cheeks. “But you’re obviously not. Dead people can’t just, you know, resume living.” She chuckled, though it sounded a bit forced. “It doesn’t work that way.” Nobody said anything. “How-How did you guys get away?”

Ryan watched Geoff slink away to the living area and throw himself onto the plastic-covered couch. The tarp crinkled beneath him, causing a large rustling sound to distract everyone’s thoughts.

“Geoff, you alright buddy?” Ryan enquired, moving to stand behind the sofa and look down at Geoff. He stared back, eyes sunken into his face, making him look 40 years older.

“Where’s the rest of the crew? We should probably give them the good news.” Geoff sighed and rested him head on the arm of the couch. Everyone turned towards Jack.

“Crew? I – I don’t think you understand.” She stuttered, crossing her arms. “There’s no crew anymore.”

In less than a second, Geoff had rolled off the sofa, bouncing up from his knees into a tall, towering figure. “No crew? This morning I had half a dozen people working for the AH Crew in this very apartment, but _now_ I -”

Jack waved her hands about, stopping Geoff mid-sentence. “This morning? You’ve been gone for two days. We thought you were dead. They’ve all left town. Everyone’s heard the news. There’s no AH Crew anymore.”

The sentence hung in the air like an unwanted guest. Ryan couldn’t help but see the despair this brought Geoff. For 7 years, this crew had been his family. From the moment he had met Jack, to the pair of failed muggers, Jeremy and Matt, that he had taken a shining to, everyone in this crew meant more to him than Ryan could ever imagine.

“There’s still us.” The low growl came from Michael. He stared at the floor, face neutral. Ryan couldn’t tell what he was thinking.

Jack sighed and walked to a stack of boxes. Opening it up, he grabbed a small pile of paperwork – things that no one here would have read – and threw them onto the coffee table. “No, there’s not. Even if you’re alive, everyone thinks you’re dead. The RT Crew already have guys in all of our streets. Every store clerk and bar owner has already pulled their protection funds. You could announce your…what even is this…your resurrection? But your names hold no weight anymore. People aren’t scared of ghosts.”

“You’re kidding, right?” A chirpy, British voice called out, shocking everyone in the room. Ryan hadn’t noticed Gavin leave the conversation, but now he walked out of the bedroom with a new shirt on. “People are terrified of ghosts. That’s why horror stuff make a lot of money.”

Ryan eyed him up and down. “Did you just go get changed?”

“Well you guys were being whiney little bastards, so I thought I’d do something more…worthwhile.” Gavin enunciated the final word more clearly. It was a habit that made Ryan bite his tongue, as it was always used to make Gavin look smarter. It usually ended up make him look like a posh dick. “By the way, Jeremy left his room in a complete state!”

“Gavin’s right.” Geoff stared at him, a smile broadening on his face as the idea formed in his mind. “People are scared of ghosts. And if we’re the AH Crew come back to life, we could scare the shit out of anyone.”

Jack groaned, pushing her hair behind her ears. “No, this is a bad idea.”

“And if we came back once…who’s to say we can’t do it again?” A fire was burning within Geoff, Ryan could sense it as he watched his leader pace around the room excitedly.

“Hang on a minute.” Jack held a hand to Geoff’s chest to stop him moving. “What do you mean ‘came back’. Do you really think you actually died? That’s insane.”

Ryan glanced at his four friends in the room, and each of their faces showed the same thought – he was right. No one just comes back to life. Ryan could remember the hot flash of the shotgun in his vision like it was happening right now. When he was hit, he knew he was dead. And when he woke up, he couldn’t forget the feeling of blankness. It still clung to him, a cold spot on the back of his mind that made him shiver. There was no doubt in his mind that he had died. And he even had a little souvenir.

“But what about this?” Ryan slipped his mask over his head and let it drop to the floor. Jack turned and immediately froze, her eyes slowly widening as she took in the scars.

She stepped off into the kitchen and threw open a cupboard, bringing out an unopened bottle of wine. Uncorking it with her teeth, she took a long swig straight from the bottle. “Okay. You guys need to tell me what happened.”


End file.
